Many years ago in the times of your grandfather’s grandfather there was a mighty fortress far to the south of here called Tor Xonor. It was built by the Dwarves for Prince Sangor of Cantril and used as a rally point for Sangor’s voyages on conquest in the North. It was a golden age, an exciting time, and stories of great adventure and heroic deeds filled the air.

Then came ruin, by the name of Argrott Fireeye, Achrim’s Flare, the Dragon of Darmoor. One of the Ten servant of mighty Achrim. Argrott alone is greatly feared, but he did not fly all the way from the Claws alone. No, with the great dragon came several of his scions and another of the Ten. Rasaska he is called, and with him came his Yaksha, the demons of air.

Tor Xonor was not undefended and the Prince’s men fought with courage. The Battle of Tor Xonor lasted many days. The scions of Argrott where cast down, many of the Yaksha were driven back to whatever pit of hell they spawned from. But in the end Argrott was too powerful and Tor Xonor fell and with it passed Prince Sangor golden age.

When word reached Cantril the King called for Vengeance, and his call was taken up by a horde of willing knights, wizard and priests. A great force was a massed and it set sail to the Claws, to Darmoor. There, upon the very island home of Argrott, the King of Cantril built Castle Vengeance to conduct everlasting war upon the force of Achrim and to destroy Argrott and his scions. Three generations of Cantril’s greatest have gone to Darmoor and help the conduct the great war. Yet in the end Tor Xonor is still a ruin, and Argrott Fireeye is a living terror.